


As I Walk the Walk of Shame

by patchfire



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-05
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up naked next to Quinn Fabray was just the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt](http://puckurt.livejournal.com/1425568.html?thread=25972128) and written for the "Fic I Didn't Write" challenge at the LJ Puckurt comm.
> 
> Banner ironically made by my awesome ravingliberal, because we're fucking shipsters.

  


_Fwwww_. Kurt blows irritably at the strands of hair in his face. His head is pounding–or throbbing–or both–and he does not want to have his hair tickling him on top of that. The hair moves slightly, then resettles, and Kurt sighs. When he opens his eyes, there is a cascade of _blonde_ in front of him.

He sits up abruptly, then winces. “Fuck!” he curses audibly, but not at all as forcefully as he’d like. The owner of the blonde hair stirs but doesn’t wake, and his eyes widen when he realizes he’s _in a bed_ with _Quinn Fabray_.

“What the hell happened last night?” he whispers to himself, then slides out of the bed. It’s not until he’s standing up that his mind fully processes what he’s wearing. Or, rather, what he’s _not_ wearing. “Where are my clothes? My Vivienne Westwood trousers! My new McQueen scarf!” He’s starting to get increasingly frantic when he spies a neat, folded bundle in a chair. “Oh, thank god,” he murmurs. “Dad would kill me after I spent all that money on this outfit. Worse than when he found my knee-length sweaters that I hid.”

Kurt scrambles into his clothes and jams his feet into his shoes, thankful he went with the stylish slip-ons instead of the thigh-high boots that tie. He slips out of the bedroom and hopes it will lock behind him. There’s no one in the hall–thank _god_ –and Kurt doesn’t encounter anyone until he walks into the kitchen downstairs. While it’s inhabited by Puckerman and another one of the morning dumpster crew, Finn and Mercedes are there as well– _Finn_.

Kurt’s stomach drops. He was in bed, _naked_ , with Finn’s girlfriend. His head is still throbbing far too much for him to have spent much time contemplating what it means, and he deliberately ignored the state of... certain things. He can’t remember a thing from the night before except for the first hour and a tasty drink that was pink and almost sparkled, that one of Quinn’s Cheerio friends handed him.

Kurt has the uncomfortable feeling that he had sex with Finn’s girlfriend. He wrinkles his nose and ends up heaving into the kitchen sink, Mercedes patting his back soothingly. There’s a snide comment behind him about not holding his alcohol, and Kurt whirls around. 

“Funny, Puckerman. Did you put roofies in all the pink drinks, or was mine special?”

“Whoa, dude, chill!” Puckerman holds up his hands defensively. “The Puckasaurus does not _have_ to drug women to sleep with him.” 

“What are you talking about, Kurt?” Finn frowns down at him, and Kurt has the uncomfortable feeling that Finn can see right through him. Either that, or that Finn thinks of Kurt like a puppy. Neither is exactly how Kurt desperately wants Finn to look at him.

“I only remember drinking one drink. One of the Cheerios handed it to me. After that...” Kurt shrugs.

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure you were still here, boo,” Mercedes says, patting him on the forearm. “I thought maybe you’d decide to bail after all.”

“I would not leave you here without a ride!” Kurt replies, affronted.

“Well, I didn’t think you would,” Mercedes replies, “but I thought maybe you got an offer you couldn’t refuse.”

“That’s uncool,” Finn finally comments, shooting a look at Puckerman, who nods his agreement, seemingly reluctantly. “You think someone was trying to sleep with one or more of the girls?”

_Or the closeted gay boy_ , Kurt’s mind fills in bitterly. Sure, Mercedes knows, at least, and he’s sure too many people _suspect_ , but that’s different than actually acknowledging it. 

Some of the Cheerios and more of the football team enter the room, then, and Kurt remembers why he wasn’t so sure about this party to begin with. It sounded like a nice idea when Quinn invited the entire glee club. She said it would be good to break down the barriers between their usual groups. Kurt agrees with the idea in principle, and it hadn’t taken long for Mercedes to talk him into it. 

Now Kurt wishes he’d never agreed to it. 

He excuses himself from the room that’s growing more crowded, and locks himself in the first bathroom he can find. When he stands in front of the mirror, Kurt takes a deep breath and slowly undresses again, examining himself. He doesn’t like the conclusions he comes to, and hurriedly gets redressed. 

He bails with Mercedes as soon as he can, locking himself in his basement bedroom and being extraordinarily thankful that his dad is staying late at the shop to inventory a new shipment. Kurt knows how to use the internet, knows what he’s looking for, and he doesn’t like the conclusions to which he comes. 

It wouldn’t do any good, though, to report it. Boys always want sex, right? And even if he tried to explain that he was gay, that’s not the way he wants his dad to find out. Nor does he think it would really help his case. No, there’s nothing to be gained, nothing except the knowledge that he needs to stay as far away as possible from the Cheerios and one Quinn Fabray. 

Now if he can just forget this morning like he forgot the night before, and never ever speak of it again. 

 

When Kurt hears that Quinn Fabray is pregnant, and that Finn’s the father, all he initially feels is relief. If Finn’s the father of Quinn’s _baby_ , then at least Kurt didn’t do something horrible like sleep with Quinn before Finn himself! Kurt’s a little confused, though. Why on earth would someone like Quinn Fabray not get an abortion? Oh, sure, he sees the little cross around her neck, bouncing during glee practice, but Kurt’s no fool. He knows what the statistics say. Quinn not getting an abortion mystifies him. 

Or, at least, it _would_ , if he didn’t have other things to think about, like the fact that now suddenly, he’s _out_. One game-winning field goal kick and a burst of bravery, and once his dad knows, it doesn’t seem important to pretend anymore. 

It’s not all that different than being closeted, really, except that he’s not afraid of someone finding out. That, and the bullies’ comments go from being sometimes about being gay to nearly always being about being gay. On the other hand, now that more of the football team is in glee club–and who would have predicted Puckerman turning up, much less that he’d end up choosing glee club over football, when particularly pressed.

 

“I told you, Finn. The ultrasound cost _money_. I need you to get a job and work!”

“We’re in the middle of a whatdacallit, Quinn.” Kurt sighs as he looks at the admittedly dopey look on Finn’s face, then ducks back behind the corner. “And didn’t you say I could see it?”

“Here.” There’s a rustling noise, almost a tearing noise, and sure enough, there’s a yelp.

“You ripped it!” Finn protests.

“I didn’t _mean_ to,” Quinn says snottily. “Anyway, it was just the corner. There’s no interesting information there. Look, you can keep that copy, if you think you can keep it where no one else will find it.”

“Ohh.” Finn’s voice is soft, and Kurt peers around the corner to watch the reverent expression on Finn’s face as he stares at the piece of paper in his head. “Oh, wow, Quinn, that’s our _baby_.” 

“Shh! Keep your voice down, you idiot. Yes, that’s our _baby_ ,” Quinn whispers, but her voice still carries, and Kurt can’t help but think she’s being cruel and mocking to someone she supposedly loves, to someone whose child she’s carrying. “Our baby which costs _money_. I need six hundred dollars in two weeks.”

“Six hundred? For what?” Finn looks puzzled. “You told me the ultrasound was only going to be two hundred.”

“I was wrong, okay?” Quinn snaps. “And I had to get prenatal vitamins. And maternity clothes.”

“Already? Wow.” Finn’s eyes widen comically. “But I thought you weren’t that far along.”

“Ten weeks today. That’s practically the end of the first trimester.”

Kurt slips away in the opposite direction as they walk, hand in hand, towards the door. He frowns to himself; prenatal vitamins and maternity clothes surely aren’t as expensive as Quinn claims. Why would she say they were so costly? 

But the news that Quinn is only ten weeks pregnant is wonderful. Kurt had done the math, and if he was right about what happened at the party, Quinn would have to be thirteen weeks already. Ten weeks means that the baby is definitely Finn’s, and as much as Kurt wants Finn, loves Finn, he can be happy for Finn that Finn’s girlfriend is pregnant with _Finn’s_ baby, not the baby of a roofied gay boy. 

Kurt is so lost in his thoughts, smiling slightly, that he doesn’t register where he’s going until he bumps into someone. “Sorry! So sorry!” he apologizes before bringing his eyes up to meet the gaze of the person he’s bumped into. 

“Watch where you’re going, Kurt,” Puckerman says cursorily, nodding slightly and sidestepping him. “Not everyone’s going to be as accommodating as I am.”

The words are almost threatening, but something about Puckerman’s demeanor and expression makes Kurt wonder if it wasn’t actually a warning, meant in a more friendly way. They have come to a truce of sorts, after all, thanks to glee club, and Kurt has to admit he has a grudging respect for the other boy. He had the balls to sing a solo, for starters, and he apparently tried to date Rachel solely because she was Jewish and it would make Puckerman’s mother happy if he dated a Jewish girl. Kurt doesn’t understand religion, doesn’t understand being religious, but he understands wanting to make your parent proud. 

 

“I told you, I’m not like my dad. I’m not a deadbeat. I’ll take of her.”

_Her?_ Kurt thinks that he really needs to stop eavesdropping, then congratulates himself that it’s been two weeks, exactly, since the last time. He’s pretty sure that’s Puck speaking, so he flattens himself against the wall and tells himself it’s for the good of the glee club that he listen in. 

There’s a snort that Kurt recognizes. “Sure you will, Puckerman. That’s why you’ve given me so much money so far.”

“It’s more than Finn has,” Puck points out. “Look, I know it’s not the best job, but it’s something, okay? And if you’d just let me tell my mom–”

“ _No_ ,” Quinn hisses. “Absolutely not! I told you, unless you can _prove_ to me that you’d be a better father, I’m going to keep letting everyone think it’s Finn’s, including Finn.” Kurt can feel his eyes widen and he looks around the pillar. “I told you, everything for the baby is expensive. I’m already thirteen weeks today.”

Kurt frowns. Two weeks ago, she was ten weeks. Today, she’s thirteen?

“Can I–can I at least see a picture?”

Kurt looks again, at Puck’s hesitant, hopeful expression, and Quinn’s bored, exasperated one. “Fine.” There’s a rustle and a rip, and Puck frowns but accepts the paper, ripped in one corner. “There she is.”

“Thanks,” Puck says softly, nothing else, and Quinn stalks away with a flip of her ponytail as well as the hem of the Cheerios skirt she still wears. Kurt wonders how long that will last. 

 

“Look what I have, boo,” Mercedes says with a grin as she sits down next to Kurt before glee rehearsal. “Quinn let me see her ultrasound pictures!”

“Oh?” Kurt’s curious, too curious, if these have a rip in the corner too, a rip that seems almost strategic. 

“Here,” Mercedes offers, opening her notebook. “I have to give them back to her in just a few minutes, she only let me take them because Tina took so long looking at them in bio.”

“Ah.” Kurt scans the picture quickly, looking at the date in the corner and the number of weeks she supposedly was on that date. There’s a little bit of math to figure it out, but he does it, and blanches. 

Quinn isn’t thirteen weeks now, as Finn believes, nor even fourteen weeks, as Puck believes. No, she’s sixteen weeks.

And that places Kurt firmly in contention for the father.

 

Kurt later doesn’t remember how he managed to give the pictures back to Mercedes, how he managed to rehearse as if nothing was wrong. He locks himself in his basement for the first time in weeks–the first time in approximately fourteen weeks, in fact–and fires up his computer and google fast, too fast. He wants a site that tells him what to do, what he can do, but none of them provide any easy answers. 

He decides two things: he needs to talk to Puck, or Finn, or maybe both of them. And he needs to get a lawyer. 

 

Getting a lawyer is actually easier than talking to either of the other boys, especially after the truth starts to come out, and the whole debacle that is Sectionals. He meets with a very nice young woman at an office not far from school (but far enough from his dad’s shop that he’s not worried about his Navigator being spotted there), and finds out that what he needs to do is relatively simple. He knows that Quinn wants to give the baby up; he also knows that this could be one of the few chances he has–maybe the only one–to have a child. 

He needs to prove paternity, because he isn’t going to let _his_ daughter be signed away. 

Of course, now Quinn is publicly acknowledging that the baby isn’t Finn’s, which means he only has one person to talk to. Puck. And as much as Puck was awful to him in the past, Kurt can see in his mind the expression on Puck’s face, when he looked at the ultrasound picture. Puck _wants_ the baby, and Kurt isn’t sure how Puck will react to being told that she’s not his, either. 

“Puck?”

“‘Sup, Kurt.” Puck nods. “You off the Madonna kick?”

“Are you tired of your hairstyle?”

“Fair enough.” Puck shrugs. “You need something? I didn’t think Schue’d given us an assignment, but...”

“No, I.” Kurt squares his jaw. “It is vital that I speak with you on an issue of some importance.”

“Come again?”

“I have to talk to you! Today! Very important!”

“Okay, okay, geez. Why today?”

“Because I’ve been trying to make myself talk to you for _weeks_ and I’m a wretched coward.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, right. Kurt, next to me, you’re like the biggest badass in school. People just don’t realize it, because they get focused on the ‘gay’ in front of ‘badass.’”

Kurt blinks. “Was that... a compliment?”

“Sure, yeah.” Puck slings his arm around Kurt’s shoulders, and Kurt can’t help but stiffen for half a second before relaxing. It’s natural, he tells himself; too many times Puck has done that before tossing him in a dumpster, even if it has been months now since that happened. “So let’s talk. Somewhere we can’t be overheard?”

“Yes. Just, um. Promise me you won’t beat me up? Or kill me?”

“What, you have some crush on me now, instead of Hudson?”

Kurt shudders violently. “Please. I have no interest in you romantically, and whatever feelings I may have once had for Finn are rapidly extinguishing themselves.”

“Then no worries,” Puck says, shrugging and steering him towards the parking lot. “How about your ride, dude? It’s a sweet ride and if I still like you after you talk, we’ll get pizza at Pat’s before you take me home.”

“I take it you need a ride,” Kurt says drily, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, my truck sounds like it’s dying, and with the fresh snow, my tires shouldn’t be out.”

“Bring it by the shop,” Kurt says wearily, unlocking the Nav and climbing in. “I’ll tell my dad to give you a discount and a payment plan.”

“The shop?”

“ _Hummel_ Tires and Lube?” Kurt rolls his eyes premptively. “Yes, it’s hilarious, the gay kid’s dad owns a shop with ‘lube’ in the name, let’s move on.”

Puck barks out a short laugh. “That’s your dad? Seriously? Burt or Danny?”

“Burt. And no, my parents didn’t realize how it sounded to name Burt’s son Kurt until after the birth certificate was signed.”

“Yeah, okay.” Puck frowns at him as they pull out of the lot. “Stop stalling, Hummel.”

“You don’t have to assert yourself by dropping my first name.”

“Fine. Tell me, _Kurt_ , what is so important.”

“Are you... are you sure you slept with Quinn?”

“What the hell?!?”

“Look,” Kurt starts speaking rapidly. “Before everyone found out, she was telling you she was a week farther along than she was telling Finn, and she was demanding money from both of you, a lot more money than she should actually need, unless she was buying designer maternity, and believe me, she is _not_. But then ‘Cedes showed me an _un_ ripped ultrasound photo” –and Kurt doesn’t miss the way Puck’s eyes widen at that detail– “and she’s actually two weeks further along than she told you. Three weeks further than she was telling Finn. I’m assuming she had a specific incident where she told Finn conception occurred. Does she have the same for you?”

Puck gapes at Kurt, not speaking, and Kurt realizes they’re definitely going to have to go to Pat’s before his planned stop. If for no other reason than to give Puck time to start speaking again. 

“Because it strikes me as odd that she seems to be lying at every turn.”

“I don’t know,” Puck finally admits quietly. “I don’t know if I really slept with her or not. There was a party–”

“Was I there?” Kurt interrupts.

“Were you–Oh, no, dude, it was like a couple of weeks after that party you got roofied–” Puck stops. “Oh. No _fucking_ way. No.”

“I don’t know,” Kurt says quietly. “I told you then and it’s still true, I don’t remember anything. I had one drink and the next thing I knew.” Kurt lets out a deep breath. “If you tell anyone this I will deny I ever said it. I woke up in bed, naked, lying next to Quinn Fabray.”

“Holy _shit_. Holy fucking shit.” Puck’s staring out the window as they pull into Pat’s. “You’re _gay_ , Kurt.”

“I had noticed,” Kurt snipes, cutting the engine. “But I still have a dick.”

“Is it in a box?” Puck jokes, like he’s forgotten temporarily what they’re discussing, and maybe he has. 

“Funny, Puck.” Kurt sighs and they walk into Pat’s. “So.”

“Yeah.” Puck exhales. “What–what are you going to do?”

“I met with a lawyer,” Kurt confesses. “If she’s mine–I don’t want her to be given up for adoption. The lawyer says that I don’t have to consent to it, even if Quinn does.”

“Really?” Puck looks hopeful. “And if, if she really is mine, is–is it the same for me?”

Kurt nods. “I told my lawyer I would bring you by in about” Kurt checks his watch “twenty-five minutes. I thought you would be interested. If she is yours.”

“Yeah, definitely. I mean, I know what people think, but.” Puck looks around the mostly-empty restaurant. “My mom loves the idea of a granddaughter, right? Quinn avoids her, because Ma’s always talking about buying a crib and stuff. It’s not like I’d be doing it _alone_. I just can’t stand the thought–”

“I know,” Kurt interrupts. “Believe me, I _know_.” He shakes his head. 

“Why wouldn’t she just tell you? I mean, yeah, gay and all, but you’ve got a lot more money than Finn or I either one.”

“Because the sex was nonconsensual?” Kurt points out. “It’d be hard to convict her of a crime, especially in this town and this far after the fact, but the rumors alone.”

“We should start them anyway. Except substitute Jewfro for you in the scenario.”

“No one would believe Jacob was unwilling.”

“Oh, damn, yeah. Well, someone.” Puck shrugs, looking angry. “I can’t believe her!”

“Oh, I can!” Kurt shakes his head. “I realized months ago something wasn’t right, even before I knew the baby wasn’t Finn’s. She wanted too much money. I think she’s saving it, planning to leave after the baby is born.”

“Fuck, yeah, she would.” Puck shakes his head. “Damn, it’s going to be hard not to let on.”

“You managed it with Finn for months,” Kurt reminds him. “You can do it with Quinn until we get some legal papers in place.”

 

Before Kurt can really explain it, he finds himself spending more time with Puck than anyone else. At first it’s because of the lawyer, and planning things; then it’s because Puck comes along when he finally, hesitantly tells his dad. Burt swears, looks like he wants to punch things, and then ends up hugging both of them. After awhile it’s because they’re both nervous; one of them is going to become a father, a single father, at age sixteen, and there’s no one else in their town who can understand. 

Kurt remembers, though, that if he becomes a father, Puck doesn’t, and vice versa, and he doesn’t know which scenario to wish for, not anymore. Kurt almost desperately wants the little girl, but he knows how much she means to Puck, too.

“Um.” They’re leaving the lawyer’s office, the final paperwork being filed. Anne explained to them that the later they waited, the less time Quinn had to file any counterclaims. As it is, she’s thirty-six weeks and the paperwork is in place to place a hold on the baby’s custody as soon as she’s born, and to rush a paternity test. 

They both agree on the name Beth, even if Puck’s the one who sings the song. 

“Yes, Puck?”

“Look, I know–I know this is crazy, but even if she’s, like, yours, can I visit her? And maybe help out?” There’s a pause, while Kurt tries to figure out how to word his answer. “I mean, if you want to, and if she’s mine, you can totally come see her, I wouldn’t ask and not offer, that’s–”

Kurt cuts him off. “Of _course_. And you actually could have a claim, legally. Emotional attachment. Quinn told you you were the father, you made plans as if you were.” He shrugs fractionally. “Anne could probably establish some legal rights. To protect you, not because you need them to get to see her. If she’s mine.”

“But... you don’t have the same claim,” Puck points out, almost dumbly.

“No.” Kurt shakes his head. “I don’t. But I trust you.”

“You _trust_ me? Did you hit your head?”

Kurt laughs. “You might not have noticed, Puck, but the rest of us have. You’ve changed. You want to be Beth’s father, one way or another. And you’ve stepped up. When Finn and Matt went to slash the tires on the Vocal Adrenaline vehicles? Six months ago, you would have been the one who thought of it!”

“Yeah, and they’re working crappy jobs at Sheets N Things with Schue’s ex-wife to pay it off.”

“While _you_ are working a job that pays more than minimum wage, that establishes transferable skills. Again: you’ve changed.”

Puck is quiet for a moment, then smiles at Kurt. “Thanks.”

“Free of charge. All part of the service,” Kurt says lightly.

“Which service?” Puck jokes.

“The–” Kurt stops himself abruptly. “Um. Best friend service?” he offers, a little cautiously.

“I’m your best friend?” Puck questions. “Really? I thought Aretha–”

“No.” Kurt shakes his head. “It’s ridiculous and makes no sense, but it’s you.”

“Does that mean I have a chance of talking you back onto the football team in the autumn? We need you, Kurt. And Beth totally would cheer for us.”

“She’ll be four or five months old!”

“Definitely capable of cheering. Didn’t you read the book Burt bought and left at the shop? Says four month olds can babble simple sounds. We’ll just try to teach her ‘gogogogo’ instead of ‘gagagaga.’ Simple.” 

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Talk to me again in August.”

“Sweet!” Puck punches the air. “And uh. You’re mine, too. I mean.”

“I know,” Kurt says sweetly, climbing into the passenger seat of Puck’s truck, which has new tires and a much improved engine, not to mention an actual place for a carseat. 

“You _know_? Arrogant little thing.”

“Not so little as I was,” Kurt points out, preening for a moment. 

Puck splutters. “Dude!”

“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, Puck.”

“My mind is _always_ in the gutter, Kurt.”

“I’ve noticed.” Kurt sighs. “Now let’s go earn more money.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve kept this a secret from everyone else.”

“Well, they’ll get it when I turn up wearing Target and Old Navy, and Beth’s in designer clothes.” Kurt’s tone is mournful. 

Puck laughs. “Yeah, I have no doubt.”

 

Kurt can’t help but feel that it’s poetic or karmic or something -ic that Quinn goes into labor just two days later, at Regionals. Two days, meaning that Quinn hasn’t been served with the paperwork, and she’s not quite thirty-seven weeks. Puck and Kurt don’t know a lot about pregnancy, still, but they know enough to exchange a quick, panicked look. 

“Shit!”

“I know!”

“Do you have–”

“Yes, thank god.” Kurt grabs his bag and follows Puck down the hall. “I can’t believe this!”

“Should we call Anne?”

“I have no idea,” Kurt confesses. 

It takes a little bit–okay, a lot–of work for Kurt to be allowed into the room alongside Puck and Mercedes. Mercedes gives him a weird look but Quinn blanches, like she finally understands why Kurt and Puck have become so close. “No. No, you can’t, you can’t.”

“You don’t want her,” Kurt says calmly. “You’ve made it clear you don’t want to keep her. Her father wants her.”

“Are you going to toss a coin to decide?” Quinn tosses at them, cutting herself off as a contraction takes hold. 

“DNA works better,” Puck says, and Kurt thinks it’s an ugly look, the snarl on Puck’s face, but he understands how much Quinn has hurt Puck. 

“DNA?” Quinn gasps, but then she’s lost in the labor, and Kurt finds himself clinging to Puck’s hand as they watch the birth unfold. 

Kurt thinks that it’s because he’s gay that he finds the whole thing so repulsive, but then he chances a look at Puck and realizes that Puck looks just as put off, so maybe it’s just _birth_ in general. 

Beth’s soft cry as she’s born is enough to make both of them stagger a little, and Kurt wants to protest when Beth is put into Quinn’s arms. He knows why, intellectually, but instinctually, he wants to hold her, and it’s a moment after he thinks it that he realizes the import of it.

Kurt’s immediate reaction is that he and Puck should be the ones to hold _their_ baby.

And he can’t help it, can’t help but feel like Beth does belong to both of them, somehow, and he finally knows what to hope for, to hope that biologically, Beth is his, because Puck can still file a legal claim, and after everything, Beth deserves for the two people in the world who love her best to both have legal standing.

 

The thirty-six hours that pass between Beth’s birth and the results of the paternity testing are excruciating. Puck and Kurt hole up in a quiet room with Beth and refuse all visitors other than their families and their lawyer. The first time Beth opens her eyes and looks at Puck, he starts to cry. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I know what the books say, Kurt, but her eyes. They’re _so_ blue.”

“And her hair is curly.” Kurt shrugs helplessly. “It’s no good guessing, Puck. I just.”

“I wish we could both win,” Puck whispers. “I want her to be mine, but I–I sort of hope she’s yours. Because of the legal stuff. It’s not fair that if she’s mine, you don’t have any rights at all.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Kurt offers sadly. “You’re a good father, Puck.”

“You are, too, Kurt.”

There’s a knock on the door, and they both tense, Beth crying out. “Boys? It’s Anne.”

“Come in,” Kurt manages, Puck jiggling Beth in an attempt to calm her back down. 

“I have the results.” Anne smiles at both of them. “I think–I think, from talking to you both over the past few months, this is the best possible outcome.”

“She’s Kurt’s,” Puck responds. “Isn’t she? And you can file those other things? For me?”

“Yes,” Anne says quietly. “Biologically, she’s your daughter, Kurt. Which means I need you to sign off on her birth certificate and other paperwork.”

“Did you bring the letter?”

“What letter?” Puck’s hold on Beth hasn’t lessened, and Kurt wants to cry. How could they have ignored so blithely that Beth would only have one biological father, in the end?

“I wrote a letter–in case this was the outcome. Supporting your claim. I just need to sign it and have it notarized, and Anne will submit it with your claim. It means maybe the judge will rubberstamp it, without having a hearing.”

“You did?” Puck looks dumbstruck, and Kurt doesn’t feel much better. They both sit down, signing paperwork and watching Anne get everything settled. 

“What’s her full name, Kurt?”

“Beth. Well, Elizabeth. Elizabeth Noa Hummel.”

“Kurt.”

“What were you planning?” Kurt asks pointedly. 

“Elizabeth Riley Puckerman.”

“Riley?”

“It means courageous.”

“Oh.” Kurt is quiet for a moment. “Oh.” 

“Congratulations,” Puck says quietly, but sincerely, as Anne leaves. “I wanted to be first.”

Kurt laughs. “Oh, you may be first, but you’re also to be congratulated. What was that you offered, just yesterday?”

Puck groans. “All right, all right, every Thursday!”

 

The judge does rubberstamp Puck’s paperwork, enshrining his legal right to see Beth periodically. It’s not necessary, because Kurt feels like Beth has a second father, and he thinks that’s as it should be. The remainder of sophomore year is hard, both of them finishing classes out at home, and no one in the glee club really understanding what’s happening. Kurt is pretty sure most of them don’t realize he’s the father, and Quinn has no reason to tell any of them. 

When Burt and Carole revisit the idea of moving in together, Kurt approaches his dad later that night, after Beth is asleep.

“I don’t think you should move, Dad.”

“I know you love this house, kiddo, but we definitely need more room. We can’t have two adults, two teenagers, and my granddaughter all fit in this house.”

“No, I mean.” Kurt takes a deep breath. “I think Beth and I should move out, when Finn and Carole move in.”

“Now hold on.” Burt flips off the television. “Explain to me why you think you need to be out on your own, and why you thought of this so quickly.”

“It’s not quick.” Kurt shakes his head. “It’s something–something Puck and I have talked about. I know he doesn’t have any biological claim on Beth, but Beth’s his daughter, too. And. It feels like he should be able to have more to do with her life than just visiting.”

“What are you thinking, Kurt?”

“Well, I had thought about waiting until school started. There’s several three bedroom houses for rent for less than six hundred a month, and, well.” Kurt purses his lips. “I assumed you would probably help. Still. Even if I moved. And if you don’t move, you don’t have a higher mortgage.”

Burt sighs. “All right, kid. I want to have dinner with you and Puck tomorrow, and we’ll talk about it.”

Dinner goes as well as Kurt can expect; then they repeat the process with Puck’s mom, and by the end of the week, things are decided.

“We should just get a two bedroom place.”

“And one of us sleep in the living room?” Kurt rolls his eyes. “They aren’t that much cheaper, Puck.”

“No, I mean. We’re going to feel dumb, signing a lease for a year in a three bedroom place, and by November, one of them’s just going to be sitting there unused.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Let’s just go look at this one, okay? It’s only $480 and it’s close to school and everything.”

“Are you going to explain to me what bizarre scheme you have?”

“When we get there.”

The house is nice, one of the nicest ones they’ve seen, with a washer and dryer included, a sunny kitchen, and two relatively spacious bedrooms. Puck leaves the owner on the porch with a wave and drags Kurt back into the slightly larger bedroom. 

“The other bedroom is Beth’s, right? And this is ours.”

“ _Ours_? Puck...”

“Hear me out, okay? We’re like, awesome together, Kurt. And Beth needs us, both of us. You’re the one that started calling me Papa when you’re talking about me with her. And I, look, I don’t know what it means, but. I haven’t wanted to be with anyone else in months, and when I picture myself in a year or two or five, it’s always with Beth, and you. Not anyone else. Just you.”

“Puck.” Kurt isn’t sure what’s happening, just that he’s not quite seventeen, a teenage father, and his best friend is moving closer and closer, face open and sincere. 

“Just us, Kurt.” Then there’s no more distance between them, and Puck’s lips close on Kurt’s, soft and not at all rough, like Kurt thought they would be. He thinks about them, in the dark nights when he paces with Beth, in the early mornings when Puck arrives and takes Beth so Kurt can sleep, and only at twilight and midnight and dawn does he let himself think about them.

But it’s daylight, and Kurt is awake, and Puck is kissing him, and Kurt is kissing back, because Puck is Beth’s other father, and Puck is Kurt’s best friend, and in that moment it hits Kurt.

Puck is their everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written during the 30 Days of Puckurt Drabbles in 2012, a small continuation in this verse.

It takes three extra years. 

Kurt once had planned to leave the day after graduation, or perhaps a week after. Puck's plan was more nebulous; a month or two, maybe, as long as it was before September. Kurt and Puck's plan, made in the autumn of junior year, while they learned to balance school, employment, and fatherhood, was to leave after a year of college at OSU-Lima. 

But rent went up the summer after graduation. They'd forgotten about the cost of preschool as opposed to free childcare. They'd made their plan in the heady days where Beth could and would swing or bounce happily for hours at times, while they studied or worked. They hadn't counted on Beth swinging out of her play-yard at eighteen months, on the time stretch and loss of sleep that made first Puck and then Kurt drop to half-time status at OSU-Lima. 

So in 2016, when many of their friends are graduating college, they finally are able to transfer, to get out of Lima. 

It's just Columbus, but it's a start.


End file.
